


After the Deluge

by Skylar0Grace



Series: 2016 August Fic-A-Day Challenge [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-08-09 21:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7818262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar0Grace/pseuds/Skylar0Grace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"He almost didn't recognise her."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Deluge

He almost didn’t recognise her. Her hair was a dark brown now, but it was lifeless and stringy. From where muscles had once been, her bones jutted out from beneath her clothes. Her head and shoulders hung in defeat. She wore an invisible marker around her that warned all other patrons away, but he made his way to the bar despite it. He wasn’t sure when she recognised him, but she closed her eyes and turned her face away slightly, as though chancing a look at him would make her come undone. He didn’t reach out to touch her, even though his fingers itched with the desire to brush against the skin he once knew so well.  
  
“Please?”  
  
He rarely had asked her for anything and although he didn’t specify a request, she nodded and moved to stand. His hand fell familiarly on the small of her back as they exited the bar. She may not have known where he parked but she knew his car and her eyes found it quickly. She ambled along and he moved to open the door for her. When she was safely inside, he took a moment to restore some sort of equilibrium; she always seemed to spin him around but it had always been a delicious high—not the crushing low he was experiencing.  
  
When he sat, his hands clasped in his lap, she raised her head off of the window and tilted her head toward him. Her eyes still refused to meet his. His heart felt constricted and he resisted the urge to press his fist to his chest. Something was wrong and he felt the unknown weight of it bearing down on him. He didn’t know why she was alone.  
  
“Where’s Dawn?”  
  
She stiffened. A shallow breath escaped her lips.   
  
“Dead.”  
  
He couldn’t help the curse that slipped from his own and his mind raced. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it. He wanted to know how, why…who. He turned back to her.  
  
“Where’s Willow?”  
  
“Dead,” she replied emotionlessly, “and before you ask, so is Giles, and Xander, and Faith, and anyone else you can think of. I’m all that’s left. Me.”  
  
“Buffy…why didn’t you call? If I had known sooner-“  
  
“You’d be dead, too.”  
  
His breath escaped him and he paused in thought. Buffy leant her head against the window again. He glanced out his own before turning to face her.  
  
“They’re dead because of me, Dean,” she whispered. “Because I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t strong enough. There’s no one left and it is all my fault.”  
  
“You have me. I’m left. I’ll call Sam in and we’ll go track down this…whatever it is…and we’ll stand together. Stand strong.”  
  
She shook her head and, for the first time, her eyes met his. They were red-rimmed, large bags under each eye as though she’d been awake for weeks. Her eyes darted slightly like she had trouble focusing.  
  
“I have nothing left. No family, no friends, no legacies. No will to go on. I’m finished. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to.”  
  
“Just-, just stay here, okay?”   
  
He watched as she lowered her head to the window again and he supposed that it was as much as an affirmation as he was likely to get. He quickly climbed out of the car and moved away; he wanted to be within eyesight of the car but not earshot. His fingers fumbled for his phone and he dialled his brother. Sam answered on the first ring. He explained the situation, including his connection to the Slayer, and the possible impending apocalypse. Sam was only a couple of hours away. He was on the road before they had even hung up with one another.   
  
Dean needed to know what had happened, what they were up against, but with everyone dead, he didn’t know who to call. He opted for Dawn’s number, hoping that whomever had her possessions knew what was going on. He nearly dropped the phone when Dawn’s familiar voice answered.  
  
“Dawn?”  
  
“Dean? Are you okay?”  
  
Dean spluttered. “I thought you were dead.” A tone of suspicion crept into his voice. “Buffy said you were dead…”  
  
There was a small noise on the other end, something between a gasp and a whimper, and it sounded strangled. “You’ve seen her?”  
  
Dean glanced toward his car again. Buffy remained inside, her head against the window, just as he had left her. “I’m looking at her.”  
  
Dawn’s voice grew stronger. “Friday,” she said. It was a code word between them in case either one doubted the authenticity of the other. They’d never had to use it and he’d nearly forgotten it. “Dean, she’s not herself. She was attacked a few weeks ago and injected with some sort of psychoactive drug. We’d been trying to find a cure but she disappeared before we could test it.”  
  
“Do you have it now?”  
  
“No, I don’t think so. We won’t know until we try it but I think it’s too easy. I think there’s a magical element that we’re overlooking. But you can’t let her out of your sight. If she’s believes we’re all dead, she’s worse than we thought. She could hurt someone.”  
  
Dean looked up at the sky and blinked rapidly, willing the moisture that had appeared to dissipate.  
  
“No, she won’t. She’s a lot worse than you think, Dawn. She’s barely functional. She looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten in weeks. I found her in some seedy bar on the outskirts of a dive town, so God only knows what’s happened to her in the meantime. You need to come and fix her.”  
  
Dawn sighed. “Okay, bring her here. Her best bet is probably with us anyway.”  
  
Dean had thought that convincing Buffy to stay with him while he waited on Sam was going to be difficult. It wasn’t. She’s simply shrugged and looked out her window. The more he watched her, the more worried he became. He urged her to sleep, safe in the knowledge that he would protect her, but she continued to stare into space. He wondered if she _could_ sleep.   
  
When Sam arrived, she didn’t move. Dean asked her to stay put in the car but he needn’t have bothered. He worried some sort of catatonia was setting in but she turned toward him when he repeatedly called her name. It reassured him, if only for a moment. Sam was waiting beside his own car.   
  
“We have to take her to Cleveland. No one is dead, she’s just been infected with something that’s making her crazy. She jumped before they could fix her.”  
  
Sam breathed in relief but he looked around Dean to the woman in the car.  
  
“Is she all right?”  
  
Dean refrained from turning around in case she noticed and it spooked her. “No. I don’t think she’s eaten or slept in weeks. But I think we should still be careful because I’ve seen her in action and I don’t wanna be on the wrong side of that—even if she’s not at her best. Let’s just get there. Cover me?”  
  
Sam nodded and Dean climbed back into the Impala. Buffy barely registered his presence. When she turned to look at him her eyes were glassy, almost as if she were fighting back tears. His heart beat loudly in his chest and he wondered if anything he said or did would make a difference in the battle she was currently losing.  
  
“You know I love you, right? I know it’s been years, and our lives are separate, but I always have and I always will. You know I don’t say that lightly…or ever. Please trust me, okay? I will keep you safe. Everything will be all right.”  
  
She seemed to breathe a sigh in relief as she once more lay her head against the window. He had no idea what would happen from this moment on but he did know that he was not going to leave until he knew she was herself again. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror as he started the car; while he had her back, he knew Sam would have his.


End file.
